Edge Of Tomorrow (Arrow's Edge MC Book 3)

by Freya Barker

  I’d become very good at staying silent and as invisible as I could make myself. I’d been mostly successful.

  These days I still sometimes have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. When the FBI raided the compound, outside Moab two years ago, I had a hard time believing it was truly over, but then this club adopted me and my kids, showing me a level of kindness I’d never experienced before. I’m forever in their debt, which is why every day I can take care of them is a gift.

  “Positive,” I assure Lissie.

  I stick my head into the clubhouse and call Ravi and Michael, two of the club’s charges, to start setting out plates and cutlery, and set the table for the kids. With the larger dinner crowd tonight, buffet style will be easier. I spot Nosh, who is sitting at a table by the bar with Lettie in her carrier on the floor beside him, but he’s staring at the beer bottle in front of him.

  “Your father-in-law looks lost,” I tell Lissie.

  “I know. We thought naming Lettie for her grandmother would make him happy, but it just seems to make him miss her more.”

  “Grief is unpredictable. Especially for those who try to push it out of the way, it’s bound to hit you upside the head when you least expect it. He’ll find his way through.”

  “Hope so, anyway,” she says, clearly changing the subject as she rubs her hands on her jeans. “What’s next?”

  I point at the large pot of potatoes I already drained. “Those need mashing, while I slice the beef.”

  The bean casserole and salad are already done, and by the time I catch sight of Brick passing the kitchen—a sign the meeting is over—the food is ready to go out on the table.

  For two days I’ve tried to forget about the few words I heard Brick mumble to whomever had called him before he moved out of earshot. “Kelsey,” he’d said before adding, “sweetheart.” His voice had been rough with emotion. I’m not sure what to think but I can’t deny it stung.

  Ridiculous, since I keep snapping at the man when he comes too close, but the way he hasn’t even acknowledged my presence since then doesn’t feel good. Guess it serves me right.

  “Kiara,” I call out to my girl, who apparently got bored with the boys and is now on her knees beside Lettie’s car seat. “Come sit down for dinner.”

  I load up a plate for Nosh while Lissie takes care of the younger kids. Then she and I get our own before giving the all-clear to the menfolk. If we were to wait until after, there wouldn’t be any food left. Well, maybe salad.

  Trunk, the only other black adult and my grandson’s idol, flips two fingers at me before he ducks out the door. Heading home to Jamie and their kids, I’m sure.

  Five of the guys live here. Nosh, Tse, and Brick have rooms in the clubhouse, and Wapi and Shilah have their quarters in the younger kids’ dorm out back. The other guys live elsewhere, but some have stuck around for dinner.

  The kids and I have our own place, what used to be Momma and Nosh’s cottage, set back from the clubhouse. The old man gave that house to us last year after his wife died. Said it needed new life and it came with the job. For the first time ever, my grandchildren have their own rooms.

  Another reason why, even if I were to work out the rest of my days here, it would still not come close to repaying these people for what they’ve done for my family. So whenever Brick offers help, I feel that scale tipping again.

  I dart a glance at Nosh’s table, where Brick has taken his plate and joined the old man. His head is bent over his dinner.

  “Let me clear these off,” Lissie stands up and starts collecting empty plates.

  “Sit your butt down, I’ve got it.” I get to my feet and push her back down in her seat.

  It doesn’t take me long to clear the table, but when I carry the now empty Dutch oven into the kitchen, I suddenly feel the world spinning.

  The last thing I remember is a loud crash.

  Brick

  I’m up and out of my seat, running for the kitchen.

  Lissie is ahead of me, already bending down in the narrow space where Lisa is lying on the floor.

  “Get out of my way.”

  I unceremoniously grab Lissie under her arms and swing her behind me.

  Lisa’s eyes are closed, her skin an almost gray quality that scares the crap out of me, but she seems to be breathing. I look for her pulse, which may be a little slow. When I turn I see Lissie lifting her feet on her lap so they’re elevated.

  “She okay?” Ouray asks from the doorway.

  “She’s on the fucking floor of the kitchen, so I’d say no,” I snap, angry at him, angry at Lisa, but mostly angry at myself, because I fucking knew she wasn’t well.

  “Language,” she whispers, blinking those dark brown eyes open. She looks a little disoriented and tries to sit up. “What…”

  “Stay put.”

  “Ambulance is on the way,” I hear Yuma call out.

  “I’m fine. Just a little dizzy is all.”

  “Right. Dizzy.” Sarcasm drips from my voice but I can’t help it. “You hit the floor, woman. Passed out cold. You’re gonna stay down until the ambulance gets here so they can check you out.”

  She glares at me but doesn’t argue. I have a sneaky suspicion she may be more shaken than she lets on. Good, maybe now she’ll start taking care of herself.

  “Nana?”

  I twist my head to see Kiara slip through the large bodies of Ouray and Tse blocking the doorway.

  “Come here, Princess,” I call her, watching as her bottom lip begins to tremble. She shuffles closer and leans her whole body into my side. “Your nana’s fine, see? She fell and now she’s waiting for the ambulance to come check her out.”

  Lisa reaches for her granddaughter’s hand.

  “No crying, child. I’m fine. You listen to Mr. Brick. Nana’s just tired is all.”

  “Here,” Lissie gets up and holds out her hand to the girl. “I think Lettie needs a clean diaper and a bottle. Wanna help me with that?”

  She takes Kiara out of the kitchen, shooing the guys back from the doorway as she goes.

  “Dear Lord, that’s embarrassing,” Lisa mutters. “I should get up.”

  “Do me that one favor and stay where you are,” I plead. “Humor me.”

  She studies my face and tries to read my eyes, but I make sure not to let anything show.

  It’s been tough these last few days since that surprise phone call ripped those old wounds right open. I thought I was gonna have a coronary when I heard her say, “Dad.”

  My daughter, Kelsey. The last time I saw her was about eight years ago when she told me, in no uncertain terms, she didn’t want anything to do with me. Fuck, that hurt, but I understood. She’d been just a little girl when I left.

  I did ten years in prison for aggravated auto theft. In simple terms, I’d run a chop shop for my old club. It had taken Kelsey’s mother five years before she filed for divorce and I didn’t blame her one bit. In fact, I’d told her not to wait enough times. Sadly she waited too long.

  She’d just been getting her life in order, away from the club, when she was diagnosed with liver cancer. By the time I found out, she was already dead. My then seventeen-year-old daughter had been looking after her ailing mother for two years on her own, and there was nothing I could do, I had another two years to go before I’d be eligible for parole.

  Needless to say, my daughter blamed me and I can’t fault her for that. She told me the only thing she wanted from me was to be left in peace. It was the least I could do for her, but I did remind her if ever she needed anything to call me.

  Two days ago she did, after eight years of silence.

  She was in trouble, I could hear it in her voice, but she wouldn’t tell me over the phone. She asked where I was and said she’d talk to me when she got here. Then she hung up. I’ve tried calling her back a few times but she’s not answering.

  “Hey, Lisa. What happened?”

  Sumo, one of the Durango Fire Department’s EMTs, walks into the
kitchen, followed closely by his partner, Blue.

  I scoot out of their way, but stick close by, listening with half an ear when they start firing off questions and help her into a sitting position. It’s not until I hear Blue say she’d like to take Lisa in to get her checked out that I focus on the conversation.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Still,” Sumo tries, “it wouldn’t hurt to get yourself checked out.”

  “Can’t I stop in at the doctor’s tomorrow?” She lowers her voice and I have to strain to hear her next words. “The kids are already upset. I can do it after I drop them off at school.”

  Sumo turns to look at Blue, who shrugs, but before they can answer I put in my two cents.

  “I’ll make sure she goes.” I know she’s about to protest so I throw her a glare. Her mouth snaps shut, but I can tell she’s not happy with me. Tough, I can live with that. “We’ll drop off the kids at school and go straight from there.”

  “Sounds good to me. I don’t think you have a concussion, but it still wouldn’t be a bad idea to have someone around tonight,” Blue carefully suggests, her eyes drifting to me.

  “She won’t be alone.”

  Despite Lisa’s protests, I walk her and the kids to her cottage, the boys at the clubhouse taking care of cleaning the kitchen.

  “You don’t need to stay here. If there’s a problem we’re close enough to the clubhouse,” she says, blocking the doorway after letting the kids inside.

  “What if you pass out again?”

  “Then the kids can come get you.”

  I let my head fall back on my shoulders and take a deep breath in. It’s still not enough to take the sting out of my words.

  “And put the responsibility to look after you on their narrow shoulders? Not gonna happen.”

  I know I hit dead center when she sucks in a breath and pales even further. Without a word, she turns and walks into the house, leaving the door open. I follow inside.

  Instead of feeling good about my small victory, I’m sick to my stomach at the pain I glimpsed in her eyes.

  CHAPTER 3

  Lisa

  I WAKE UP at the sound of Kiara chattering away in the kitchen, and the low rumble responding immediately reminds of the man who slept on my couch.

  We didn’t talk much when we got here. I was busy getting Kiara ready for bed and assuring her Nana was just fine, and after that sat down with Ezrah to make sure he had his homework done. After he went down, I basically pulled out an extra pillow and blanket, handed it to Brick, and locked myself in my bedroom.

  At first I didn’t think I’d get to sleep last night, but I was out like a light in no time. Only problem is, even after a solid night’s rest, I still feel tired.

  I swing my legs out of bed and stumble to the bathroom. Normally I’d first get coffee going, but there’s no way I’m walking into the kitchen with my hair looking the way I know it will. My reflection confirms that was a good call, and I once again consider going for a haircut. I’ve thought about it, going short so it’s easier to manage, but so far I’ve chickened out every time.

  Ezrah is up as well when I finally emerge from the bathroom, but Brick is nowhere to be seen.

  “Where’s Mr. Brick?” I ask, walking to the coffee machine to see the pot is already full. Bless his heart.

  “Shower,” Ezrah explains. “Said he’d be back to pick us up.”

  I note the dishes in the sink.

  “Had breakfast already?”

  “Yup, Mr. Brick said I could have Lucky Charms,” Kiara chirps, knowing damn well those are saved for the weekends.

  I give her an admonishing look because I’m sure she never mentioned that to the man.

  “Book bag ready, boy?” I direct at Ezrah.

  “Uh-uh.” He eyes me suspiciously. “Why is he pickin’ us up? You still sick?”

  In the past I might’ve tried brushing him off with some excuse, but the boy is ten going on twenty-five with everything he’s seen in his young life.

  “Mostly just tired. I’m gonna see the doctor, make sure that’s all there’s to it.”

  He stares at me a few seconds longer before turning back to whatever TV show they’re watching, while I get some toast and coffee down.

  Five minutes before we normally leave, a knock sounds at the door and Kiara runs to open it. Brick’s eyes are on me as he steps inside.

  “Y’all ready?”

  “Don’t forget your lunches, and get in the truck already,” I tell the kids. “I’m just gonna grab my things.”

  They’re already in the back of the truck’s crew cab when I pull the front door shut behind me. Brick is waiting for me on the passenger side and opens the door. I avoid his eyes, and climb in after mumbling, “Thank you.”

  As usual, Kiara is chattering from the back seat, giving me a headache.

  “Child, save some of that for your friends at school, all right? You’re not gonna have any stories left.”

  “Sure I will. I have lots more stories. Like when—”

  “Princess, give it a rest, yeah?” Brick rumbles, softening his words with a wink in the rearview mirror.

  My grandbaby, the little traitor, smiles and answers obediently, “Okay.”

  What’s missing this morning is Ezrah’s attitude. He always has something to say to his sister, most of it not particularly complimentary, but he’s been suspiciously quiet this morning.

  I twist in my seat to look at Ezrah, who appears to be turned to the window, but he’s looking at me from the corner of his eye. His face is tight. My boy is worried about me.

  It doesn’t surprise me. Kiara was too young to have any memories of her mother, but Ezrah was hurt when she disappeared. Poor kid started asking when Mama would be home, then moved to asking if she’d come back, and finally I had to tell him she was dead when I got word. Eventually he stopped talking about her altogether.

  I’m the only constant the kids have had in their lives. Last night must’ve freaked him out.

  I throw him a smile before straightening in my seat, just as Brick pulls up to Ezrah’s school. He’s already half out of the truck when I call him back.

  “Bag, lunch…and a thank-you for Mr. Brick,” I snap.

  Ezrah mumbles something that may have been gratitude and I’m about to call him out on it when Brick glances over and ever so slightly shakes his head.

  As usual I walk Kiara to the door, kissing her head when she hugs my middle, and opening the door for her. Brick has an inscrutable expression on his face when I climb back in the truck. I suddenly feel uneasy.

  “What?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Nothin’.” He pulls away from the curb. “Where’s your doctor at?”

  “Clinic by the hospital.” It’s quiet in the car, but I can’t shake that look in his gray eyes. “What was that look for?” I finally ask.

  His gaze is focused on the road ahead, but I keep my eyes on him. He knows I’m not letting up.

  “You. You’ve got this tough exterior—bristly—but every now and then, when you think no one’s lookin’, you’re showing your soft side.”

  I turn my head to look out the side window, but I can’t keep myself from mumbling, “Pot meet kettle.”

  His deep chuckle fills the cab of the truck and I don’t bother hiding my smile. It’s quiet after and I keep my eyes out the side window, although I can feel him looking over from time to time. He unsettles me, makes me feel off-balance. Conflicted is probably a better description.

  Brick’s been nothing but nice to me, although he sometimes has a bossy way about him. Heck, everyone at the clubhouse has been nice and it’s taken me a long time to get used to it. But Brick appears to have taken a personal interest I don’t quite know what to do with.

  There’s a reason I’ve been trying to avoid spending too much time in his presence. I’m attracted to him. Something that’s not easy for me to admit, even to myself. White men paying me any attention in the past have always be
en after one thing, and one thing only.

  “Thanks. You can just pull up front,” I tell him when he turns into the clinic’s parking lot. “I can grab an Uber back.”

  “Right,” is all he says in response before I jump out of the truck and rush inside.

  _______________

  “Was this the first time you passed out?”

  Dr. Weinberg sits down behind his desk, the ECG strip in front of him.

  Ouray gave me his name last year, after an incident when Ezrah had needed stitches. Brick had come to my rescue then as well. I’m not sure what the club’s arrangement with the doctor is, but I know he’s the one the boys see and I’ve been here a few times for my babies. I’ve just never been here for myself.

  After a preliminary examination, I had to stop at the lab for some blood work and an ECG before I was called into his office.

  “Yes, I’ve been light-headed before, but the first time I fainted.”

  He nods and looks down at the strip.

  “Never had any cardiac complaints?”

  “No.”

  “And how long have you been feeling tired and light-headed?”

  I snort, because the truth is, I’ve felt like that for a good long time.

  “A while now.”

  “Hmm. Ever noticed an irregular heartbeat? Felt out of breath?”

  My hand automatically comes up to my chest. The memory of my mother dying of a heart attack, at the ridiculously young age of thirty-nine, suddenly surges to the forefront. A hard time in my life I’ve relegated to the far recesses of my mind.

  “Not really.”

  “What about family, any history of cardiac issues?”

  I walk out of his office twenty minutes later with an appointment with a cardiologist at Mercy for the day after tomorrow. I sit down on a bench just outside the clinic doors, taking a moment to gather myself. Dr. Weinberg assured me it was just one of several things he wanted to check out, but that given my mother’s history, and the fact I showed an irregular heartbeat, he felt a visit with a cardiologist should be first.

  My God, I’m scared. Not for myself, but my poor babies.